


sneaky, sneaky

by impeccably_stressed



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, M/M, sassiness inbound!!!, sweetness overload!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 11:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impeccably_stressed/pseuds/impeccably_stressed
Summary: It's a slow day at the station and the Detective and Tina decide to do a little old-school note-passing under the nose of Unit Bravo.For bobsmyuncle at the Wayhaven forum.





	1. Tempting (Morgan)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! Just trying to get through all those fics I promised to write, and some of them got a bit...ahead of me in terms of length and I figured it was more appropriate to actually post them here.
> 
> So far I only have two planned, Morgan and Nate. If I ever get the inspiration, I might come back and do Farah and Adam, but I'm just warning you now that it's probably just going to be those two (because they're such hilarious ends of the spectrum when it comes to anything Detective-related).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should have been a refreshingly quiet day.

It should have been blessedly quiet.

The Detective’s latest case only had about two clues and was such a low priority that even the old couple reporting it in had chuckled and waved her off, “You’ll get to it when you get to it, Detective.”

It should have been a refreshingly quiet day.

Instead, Morgan has a headache.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch—_

The Detective stops writing suddenly.

_Screeeeeeeeech!_

The Detective gets up from her chair.

_Pat, pat, pat—squeeeeeeeeeak!_

She pads over to the door.

She makes her way over to Officer Bobblehead and their inane chatter filters through the air.

_Pat, pat, pat—squeeeeak—slam!_

_Pat, pat, pat—screeeeeeeeech—screeeech—screech._

The Detective finishes adjusting in her seat and reads. Morgan tries not to sigh too loudly and allows herself to close her eyes in the silence.

And then the silence is broken by the Detective, scratching at her paper once more.

In three minutes she will stop writing, screech out of her chair, pad over to that squeaky fucking door, and prattle about with Officer Bobblehead before coming back and repeating the process.

Over and over and over again.

For a full hour.

Morgan has stopped keeping count how many times the Detective has repeated her process, only knows that she now has a Detective-induced migraine.

She fiddles an unlit cigarette in her fingers, feels the scratch of the papers beneath her fingertips, feels more than hears the soft squeak of the file drawer as she shifts in her spot, smells the waft of tobacco escape the cigarette when she squeezes gently.

She wonders why she ever stopped smoke.

_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!_

Morgan growls and she can’t help the complaint that rushes past her lips, “Can’t that fucking garden gnome wait until tomorrow?”

The Detective blinks at Morgan, as though she almost forgot she was there.

The scent of tobacco isn’t strong enough to overpower the sweat the Detective’s body is starting to excrete, no matter how minimal or how well she covers her surprised expression.

Morgan can hear the Detective’s heart speed up slightly before a wave of calm washes over her—she’s about to lie and Morgan can’t help the furrow of her brow.

What the hell for?

“That gnome,” the Detective begins, poking at the papers in her hands for emphasis, “tied Mr. and Mrs. Ogden’s entire garden together, and it’s my job to find it, okay?”

Morgan rolls her eyes, “Whatever it is that you’re really doing, do it more quietly, or I’ll tie you to that damn chair myself.”

The Detective stammers, blushing and indignant, and Morgan smirks and leans back against the shelf.

“Tempting—”

Morgan’s eyes shoot over at the Detective.

“—but maybe later?”

The Detective walks out of the office before Morgan has time to find a makeshift rope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow [my personal tumblr](http://impeccably-stressed.tumblr.com/) if you like memes, foxes, and shitposting.
> 
> Follow [my art tumblr](http://impeccably-stressed-art.tumblr.com/) if you like the occasional art as well as fic updates.
> 
> [Send me a message](https://forum.choiceofgames.com/u/impeccably-stressed/summary) on the CoG forums if you just wanna chat.


	2. Crystal Clear (Nate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first it was amusing, the vigor with which the Detective had thrown himself into finding that couple’s garden gnome…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK Y'ALL
> 
> [CHECK OUT THIS FANART](https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wayhaven-chronicles-fanart/36372/72?u=impeccably-stressed)
> 
> I LITERALLY DIED.
> 
> L_M HAS KILLED ME.

After a brief discussion about the facts of the case with Officer Poname, the Detective had reentered his office and promptly hunkered down at his desk.

He had hunched over his paperwork, the span of his elbows very nearly reaching the length of his desk, and scribbled energetically onto flimsy yellow notes. Nate couldn’t help but notice the tug at the corner of the Detective’s lips as he wrote, and his own mouth had quirked in response.

Before long, the Detective had jumped up from his chair, his hands gripped the file, and a full grin was plastered on his face. Nate hadn’t bothered to hold back his amused chuckle as he placed a bookmark between the pages of his book.

“I suppose we’re going gnome-hunting?” Nate had asked.

“Oh!” The Detective’s eyes widened as though he’d just remembered Nate was sitting there. “No, I’m just going to…double check details with Tina.”

At that, the Detective had scampered off to find Tina somewhere in the station.

Within the time it took for Nate to consider following him, the Detective had returned and plopped back into his seat, his grin still firmly in place.

Without so much as acknowledging Nate, the Detective returned to his previous efforts.

In mere minutes, the Detective had gotten up again.

“Just double-checking,” he’d said under his breath as he stepped out.

Nate hadn't even counted to thirty when the Detective returned, a blush dusting his cheeks.

And so things repeated.

At first it was amusing, the vigor with which the Detective had thrown himself into finding that couple’s garden gnome, but the amusement soon turned to curiosity and suspicion.

So Nate did what he did best: he waited patiently.

Unfortunately, his patience was not rewarded, because the Detective continued his frantic back-and-forth for nearly half an hour.

It’s then, with Nate’s curiosity so piqued—and his book long forgotten—that he takes matters in his own hands.

Nate waits until he hears the distinctive sound of Tina’s footsteps. Judging by the echo he determines she’s walking toward the small kitchenette—he checks the time on the wall, and now he’s certain she’s up for her afternoon tea.

He glances over at the Detective, who is still furiously scribbling at yellow sticky notes that never seem to grow in number. Nate stands up from his spot at the round table.

“I was thinking of getting water,” he announces, shaking the Detective from his… _work_ , “Would you like anything?”

The Detective’s eyes light up in surprise as he looks up at Nate, who has to hold back his smile, before the Detective immediately returns his gaze back to his desk.

“Some water would be very nice, thank you,” he says quietly and earnestly, even if he said it to the desk.

But it only makes Nate more curious as he enters the kitchenette, catching Tina as she’s pouring herself water from the kettle.

Nate speaks before she can say anything. “A gnome,” he says simply, his eyebrows raised and eyes crumpled in amusement.

Tina returns his smile with a chuckle, the softness of it echoing in the sparsely furnished kitchenette.

“Not just any gnome,” Tina says as places the kettle back on its electric stand, “According to Mrs. Ogden, he’s called Nate the Gnome.”

Nate laughs at that and walks past her toward the cabinet.

“More's the shame,” he begins, still grinning as he grabs two glass cups from the cabinet.

Behind him he can hear Tina settle into place with her arms crossed, waiting expectantly for him.

“The reports are so vague,” Nate explains himself as he fills the cups with water, as nonchalantly as he can manage. “The Detective has been running himself ragged just to double check everything with you."

Tina snorts. “Is that what he told you?”

“What do you mean?” Nate asks without turning around.

Tina laughs softly, “I suppose you could say I was clarifying things for him.”

Nate almost slips and says, _But not about the case._ Instead he simply raises a brow at Tina whose grin only widens.

She opens her mouth to say something but the Detective comes to a halt at the doorway to the kitchenette.

“Tina! Nate!” The Detective laughs nervously, he's clutching the yellow-stickied report in his hands, but looks like he’s been caught red-handed at something.

Nate makes sure not to acknowledge his odd behavior.

“There you are,” Tina says as she grabs her mug. She grins mischievously. “The tea’s piping hot, and I haven’t spilled a single drop.”

Nate scrunches his face, not even trying to hide his confusion, but the Detective only blushes.

“Well,” Tina moves past the Detective toward the doorway. She turns around to shrug her shoulders and sigh at both Nate and the Detective. “I’d better get back to my darling Nate. He’s just caught my eye, you see. Such a sweetheart. Loves nature. Dogs love him.”

“Tina!” The Detective cries, indignant.

Tina chuckles without looking back, “I’m just talking about the gnome!”

Nate shakes his head and laughs. “I can see why you consult with her.”

The Detective dares to look at Nate despite his mortification. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Nate says, grinning. “She just makes things so crystal clear.”

The Detective nods in agreement, sighs, and sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck.

When he finally manages to look up at Nate, his eyes are warm, and when they crinkle in a bashful smile, Nate feels his heart flutter pleasantly.

“Yeah, she does.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [my personal tumblr](http://impeccably-stressed.tumblr.com/) if you like memes, foxes, and shitposting.
> 
> Follow [my art tumblr](http://impeccably-stressed-art.tumblr.com/) if you like the occasional art as well as fic updates.
> 
> [Send me a message](https://forum.choiceofgames.com/u/impeccably-stressed/summary) on the CoG forums if you just wanna chat.


End file.
